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Holly:
Hi! No arcade fights here. I’ll let the little kids have the game for a bit. This week, anyway.
Me:
Okay, good. Remember what I said, if you need anything.
Holly:
Totally will do!
The uneasiness settled in my stomach, and I tossed the phone back onto the floor. Though I still didn’t buy her story, I reasoned that I had to let it go for the time being. I’d done as much as I could without potentially looking like an overprotective crazy person.
I rested on my back, hands behind my head. Then, shut my eyes. Allowing the heaviness sweeping across my eyelids to release. Now that the Holly matter was settled, I still had those words to write. Except… I couldn’t bring myself to hop back on the computer and actually attempt to produce them.
A sprinkling of energy arrived next to me. Jamie’s familiar warmth landed on my right side—a warmth which I could feel without even seeing. A smile spread across my lips.
“You look like you could use a break,” Jamie said.
“Welcome back.” I opened my eyes. Jamie lay next to me, his lips turned upward, matching mine. Curly, blond hair spilled around his ears and a few pieces fell across his forehead. Today, he wore a blue flannel shirt with beige khakis. Attire that seemed more like him than anything else he’d worn since Ghost Jamie came back into my life.
“Spirit Jamie, you mean,” Jamie said, nudging my arm playfully. “I know I’ve joked and all but… you realize I’m not actually a ghost, right?”
“I didn’t realize there was a difference.”
“Oh. There’s a difference. Ghosts aren’t here to save people, I’ll tell you that much. Ghosts are why movies like Poltergeist are created.”
“Fine. Spirit Jamie then,” I said, trying to ignore the scary thoughts circulating in my mind about hauntings and other horror movies I’d seen. Horror had never been my thing. I already had enough non-paranormal horror in my life. “Anyway… what you’re wearing suits you today.”
“Thanks. I think?” His brows narrowed in confusion. “You didn’t like the fluffy slippers?”
A snort escaped through my nose. “Geez, Jamie. You and those slippers. Seriously, if you like them that much, wear whatever the fuck you want. It’s your funeral.”
As soon as the words left my lips, I cupped a hand over my mouth in horror.
“Shit,” I said. “I mean—”
His sapphire eyes smiled at me gleefully. “What? Okay, I know I brought up the whole ghost thing and joking but… in all seriousness—ha, an oxymoron!—we canstilljoke. And, well, fuck, if it’s my funeral… then let’s make it a goddamn good one, right?”
Jamie snapped his fingers. His feet went from being bare to wearing those Beach Bum sandals again. “I like these sandals,” he said.
“Well, if you like them, I guess I like them, too.”
He smiled. “Okay, changing gears here. We’ve been through enough doom and gloom lately. What’s up on our fun agenda?”
“Ourfunagenda?” I asked.
“Yeah. Y’know. Fun stuff.” He turned his hands into fists and did a dance with his arms, biting down on his lip.
“Jamie… when’s the last time you actually, uh, went out? Pretty sure people don’t have fun like that anymore. Or, umm, ever.”
“Oh, c’mon. Just because you’re a Debbie downer and don’t want to do anything…”
“Woah, woah. I’m a Debbie downer now? I’ll have you know, I can be fun.”
“Oh yeah? Like… what do you do for fun?”
“Lots of stuff.” I bit down on my tongue, trying to think of a good example. But nothing readily came to mind.Shit. What did Dave and I used to do? Well, that question was simple enough to answer.
